


The End

by Darkhorse



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Centaur!Javert, M/M, Mercy Killing, Severe equine injury, emotional distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/925947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhorse/pseuds/Darkhorse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for Kinkmeme prompt; http://makinghugospin.livejournal.com/13488.html?thread=10744496#t10744496.</p><p>Centaur!Javert breaks his front legs, someone (Valjean) has to comfort him while they wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

he scream carried, echoing down two streets and stopped Jean Valjean in his tracks. Even as he turned about to run the other way, towards the noise, he found himself considering the noise. The sound had been human, yes, but not entirely human, there had been, indeed still was, a shrillness which he could only connect with a wounded animal. What the combination suggested made his heart thump and he ran faster, rounding the corner at the end of Rue Plumet and Rue Babylon, to see a crowd in the far distance of the street. The trouble, what ever it was that caused the scream, clearly involved someone or something important then, few would stop if it was simply a gamine and his dog who were hurt. Which left only his other thought, already to the fore due to the cadence of the scream, but which he could not, would not acknowledge. It was too frightening.  
He dashed into the rear of the crowd, partly shouldering his way in through mere impulsion of entry, partly due to people recognising him and parting before him. In seconds he stood on the inner circle, being craned over by the gaggle. On the far side, disappearing rapidly, a centaur with the build of a Percheron was being led away by two mounted police. ropes on his waist, shackles glinting on his human wrists and probably hobbled on two equine legs judging by his uneven pace. He dropped his eyes to the centre of the circle.

Javert lay on his side, ribs huffing in and out in shocked breaths. It was clear he had only just fallen, after a moment his human part rose up slightly and his haunches gathered underneath him. It was then, as he waited for the police officer to heave himself to his feet, as he had done so many times before, that Valjean saw his forelegs. Both were bent at unnatural angles, the one he was laying on stretched out in front then bending halfway above the knee. The other one... he swallowed. The cannon bone pocked through, a viscous mar of white and scarlet on the beautiful black leg. Trying to ignore it he walked forwards and knelt, letting Javert sink back to cushion his head on his lap.   
“I've already sent Altier back. When they return, I don't want to see them.”  
He tried to be light hearted “Well they can hardly turn invisible while they patch you up.”  
“They'll end the pain, certainly.”  
Cold fear sank into his heart “Centaurs heal well, you'll come out of this like you have before”  
Javert shook his head, the queue wobbling back and forth and a sad smile appearing “Not this time Jean...”  
His mind made a rapid dash through the treatments, perhaps slings would work, slings and setting. Javert was canny enough to know to stand still.  
The policemen seemed to have read his mind “Slings, maybe if it was only the right one, but not both. You never did understand horses, Jean. I can stand on three legs, can rear up for moments, but it's impossible...” There was such a long pause he thought Javert had stopped talking “It's better like this.”  
“No”He lifted his head, anything to avoid the grey eyes, which were so blank, so fatalistic. The crowd was somewhat dispersing, only Gamines and officers remaining. Three centaurs were there, but as he watched they turned away, trotting back to their posts. He glared at them, shaking his fist “Heartless”.  
Javert's arm rose to grab his, “No Jean,” He struggled, and Javert yanked his hand down, his voice cold, but gentle too “Let them go. It was beyond duty that they came at all. Don't make them watch the end of one of their own.”  
Still he could not accept it “There must be something, some mad-cap scheme that a student has cooked up, to at least try.”  
“And I thought you were the realist.”  
He couldn't even respond to that.

Javert broke the silence, shifting uneasily “I wish Altier would hurry up.”   
Valjean noticed pain was beginning to glaze the grey eyes and rubbed the man's human shoulder, yanking his coat off a moment later and draping it over the black quarters when Javert shivered. The head on his lap nodded thanks, but all the actions it seemed futile, useless. It wouldn't change what was going to happen. Part of him wanted to get up, to run away and forget this was even happening. But how could he? That was betrayal, of his heart and his soul. And leaving now wouldn't make things better, it would all come crashing back when Javert failed to come to the door this evening, and he'd be shouldered with guilt that he had left. 

So he stayed, stroking Javert's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner, much as he would soothe Cosette when she'd had a nightmare. Intuitively, his hand slipped up Javert's neck to the tight queue, the only thing preventing the man resting face up on his lap. Without pausing to think, he pulled the tie off, letting the greying hair fall loose. He ran his fingers through it, easing out the snarls in much the same way as he would when Javert allowed him to attend to his horse-tail. He glanced along, to the article in question. His hand must have stilled, for he felt Javert's head move and knew the eyes followed his own. After a moment a strangely out of place laugh bubbled up from his lap, and he looked down, meeting Javert's eyes.  
“Remember the ribbon?”  
He found his own lips twitching in a stupid smile. The red ribbon, which Cosette, all well meaning, and completely ignorant of it's meaning, had attached to the top of Javert's tail the morning an important ceremony. Javert had been in high dudgeon for months, which had only earned more laughter form his colleges, and the odd remark that he deserved it as much as his medals. Only after Cosette had been married had they managed to remove it, and wouldn't he ever remember the smug expression on Javert's face as the little piece of silk went up in flames.

He looked at Javert's face, the eyes watering with laughter, the creases in the side of his mouth when he laughed as deeply as now. His fingers traced them, wandering over the other man's face lightly, preserving the touches in his mind, so they would be there when he looked for them, forever. But he knew he'd always miss things, little nuances that only came with Javert himself, the sweet hay smell the other man hated, but which was better than lavender for making him sleep. How soft his flank was for a pillow, the exasperated snorts that the man half of him had never quite eradicated from his repertoire if feelings, despite effort. All those little things. Valjean felt his hand falter in its movements, and realised Javert had been watching him think.  
“It's alright, Jean, it would...” for the first time, Javert's voice caught in his throat and he had to swallow before speaking again “It would have happened one day...”  
Valjean looked away, to hide his own tears and unable, suddenly, to cope with the raw greif, pain not from his legs, that he saw in Javert's eyes. He clenched his hand on the other man's shoulder, and felt Javert's hand reach up to cover it. 

The quick tramp of policeman’s feet, so distinctive, made itself heard. He felt Javert stiffen, fingers clenching painfully tight on his own, and looked down. The stoical eyes were full of childish terror.  
“Don't let me see them... Please... Don't let me see them...”  
He held Javert's eyes with his own “You won't” Carefully, he wriggled his hand, turning it so their two lay palm to palm, then gripping Javert's wrist. The centaur's breath came fast now, as if he was galloping. Jean guided their linked hands, fingerwoven now, to rest over the other's heart as the crowd behind made the rustling noises of moving out the way. A few women choked sobs, perhaps when they realised what was going to happen.   
The noise must have registered to Javert's ears for the black hind legs started to thresh, an attempt to escape as instinct over-ruled sense. Jean reached down with his free hand, rubbing the great balck shoulder gently.  
“Lie easy... Shhh”  
Javert's horse part settled and Valjean looked over his shoulder up to see two officers, one was a young foot officer, Altier presumably. The uniform of the other identified him as the Prefect. Gisquet's eyes were dark and pained as he looked over the scene, but dry. Valjean met his eyes and nodded once, tilting his head to direct them to go behind.  
Javert's hand clamped on his own and he turned his gaze back to the one who really needed him.  
He knew the look he saw there would haunt him, but he held it. Slowly, Javert reached up to him and ran a hand over his bearded cheek, holding eye contact the whole time. Then the centaur let his arm drop to fold neatly in front of his chest, turned his head so it lay sideways, took one deep steadying breath, let it out slowly... and nodded.

 _BANG_

Javert's human torso jerked in his arms, then lay still. The black flanks, under the yellow coat, heaved up, then slowly dropped. Futiley, his fingers slid to the neck. No pulse....Javert was gone. Valjean bowed his head, oblivious of the lowered eyes of those who ringed them, even from the Gamins, and pressed a kiss to the side-burned cheek, silently. He didn't feel the gentle touch of Altier's hand on his shoulder, as he knelt there, cradling his lover. Javert, his Javert. His beautiful Javert. His hand kept stroking the greying hair which lay over his thigh, as tears fell, blinding his vision. But what use were his eyes, now, when all he wanted was his ears to hear Javert laughing, the clank of horseshoes, and feel a harsh shove on the shoulder as it was revealed to all be a joke. In his heart, if he still had one, he knew that would never happen... Javert was gone, never to return.   
_I hope you can gallop to your hearts content in heaven, my friend._   
That was one thing Javert had loved about Montreuil-sur-Mer, the huge expanses of grazing field on the edge, when he just let himself gallop. It was watching that which had made Valjean fall in love with his inspector. There was always something magical about it, some different side of Javert which came through only when his hooves pounded the grass. digging deep then lifting up clear to make it seem as if he truly was flying. He'd never forget it, he never had, it was one more precious memory to hold onto. And now, now memories were all he had. He let his hand slid to rest breifly on javert's cheek, not feeling the coolness. Then, with finger and thumb, he closed the police officer's eyes. Those eyes, which would never prove an infallible window to Javert's heart, would never tease and mock him without the centaur even using words. All gone.... Slowly he stood up, gently easing Javert down to rest on the cobbles.  
He nodded, once, looking down at his lover's still body “Goodbye Javert.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those not conversant in horses, the tying of a red ribbon to the tail indicates to other riders that 'this horse may kick'. Up until Modern times, a broken leg was effectively a death sentence.


End file.
